God Bless You, Marianne Duquesne

Jack was staring at the TV, but not seeing anything, when the doorbell rang. He glanced at the clock. Eight-thirty. Late for the 'Trick or Treat' youngsters, and the local teens didn't usually bother off-duty PD lieutenants. The bell rang again.

He opened the door and blinked.

"Trick or treat." The voice was sultry, almost familiar, the face invisible behind a black silk mask, the hair covered with a witch's pointed hat, the body concealed in an ankle-length black cape.

"I'm sorry..." he began, blinking again as the witch swept off hat and mask, revealing the smiling face of Marianne Duquesne, a college friend of his daughter, Kelly.

"Hi, Mr. McInally," she said, "is Kelly ready?"

"Kelly? Ready? I don't know, I mean, she left over an hour ago, said she was going to a Halloween party." Jack was bewildered.

Marianne made a face. "Oh, no! She's forgotten about me."

"Forgotten?"

"We arranged this over a month ago, Kelly must have forgotten."

"Can't you follow her?" said Jack.

"I don't know where the party is," Marianne said. "A friend dropped me off here, and she's gone off to her own party. I deliberately didn't bring my purse, because I have nowhere to put it. I was going to tuck my key in my bra, but I'm not wearing one, and I have no money for a taxi." She looked close to tears.

Jack stood back. "Come in, Marianne. We'll sort something out."

"Thanks, Mr. McInally. My roommate, Sally, she's going to a party, too, but she might not have left yet. She won't be back until midnight."

"There's the phone, Marianne. See if she's still there."

"Thanks." She dialled, waited, made a face, dialled again, waited, put the phone down. "She must have left. All I'm getting is the recorder."

"Let me see if I have this straight. You have no key, no money, and no way of getting back into your apartment before midnight. Is that about right?"

"Dead on, Mr. McInally." She made a face. "Now what?"

"Have you eaten, or were you planning to eat at this party?"

"At the party."

"I was just about to get myself something. Would you care to join me?" Jack shrugged. "I'm no gourmet cook, but I think I can promise you something edible."

"I am."

"What?"

"A gourmet cook. Partly why I'm in first year law with Kelly at the age of twenty-four. Daddy sent me to a Swiss finishing school. I hated it, but they taught me to cook. What have we got?"

She flushed. "My outfit was intended for a 'Witches and Warlocks' party, Mr. McInally. It's a little revealing."

"I've been on the force for twenty years, Marianne. I doubt I can be surprised."

"Mari. Call me Mari. Please?" She smiled.

"Only if you'll call me Jack."

"Okay - Jack."

"Okay - Mari. Your cloak?"

Flushing again, she loosened the fastening at her throat and took off the cloak. Jack blinked, flushing himself. Marianne - Mari - was stunning. Black stockings covered her long legs, held up by red, silk garters. Long, lovely legs. A low-cut, one-piece outfit, in a rich, dark, red, almost the colour of her hair, clad her torso, strapless, clinging. Around her hips she had draped some black velvet cloth to form a skirt, barely covering her crotch, or her bottom. A black velvet choker around her throat completed her outfit.

"Ver - ," Jack began, stopping to clear his throat. "Very, um, nice."

"You like it? The main part," she gestured to her torso, "was my aunt's. She used to be a bunny girl. I took the cotton tail off and added the skirt."

"You make it look very nice," said Jack.

"Isn't that the wrong way round?" Mari said, puzzled.

"I don't think so," said Jack. "It's your figure inside it, so I reckon it's you making the outfit look good." He grimaced. "I don't think it's a very practical outfit for cooking in, or sitting around until midnight, do you?"

Mari made a face. "No, I don't."

"Come with me, I think there are still some of Sheila's clothes here. They should fit you."

"Are you sure, Jack?" Mari said hesitantly.

"She's been dead for four years now, lass. If you don't mind wearing them, I certainly don't." Jack's face was bleak for a moment, remembering, but he forced a smile. "This way, Mari."

In his bedroom, Jack opened a closet. He pointed. "Those were Sheila's. I keep meaning to give them to Goodwill, but I never seem to get around to it. Help yourself. I'll see what we have to eat."

"Thank you. Jack! Hold on, before you go? Would you unzip me, please? I can't reach." She turned her back and Jack stepped close, reaching out for the zipper on the back of her costume, smelling the fresh springflower scent of her. He fumbled the zipper down, aware of his stiffening erection.

"I'll see you downstairs," he said, leaving the room quickly.

Mari watched him go, thoughtful. She turned back to the closet. A few minutes later, Jack heard her step into the kitchen. Now, she was wearing an ankle length wraparound skirt and a loose sweater. She still wore her high-heeled shoes, and her stockings.

"That's better," she said, "what have we got?"

"Some pork fillets, broccoli, baby potatoes, onions, - "

"Stop!" Mari grinned. "Grilled pork fillets in onion gravy, with potatoes and broccoli. Maybe not gourmet, but it appeals to me."

"And me. Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. Just sit there and talk to me. I like company in a kitchen."

"What do you want me to talk about?" Jack said, taking a seat at the kitchen table.

Mari gestured with the knife she was wielding. "Yourself. Kelly." She took a chance. "Sheila, if it would help."

Jack's face froze for a moment, then relaxed. "When the cancer was diagnosed at first, we thought she had a chance," he said quietly, not looking at Mari, his attention miles away. She listened while he relived the long illness of his beloved wife, the false hopes of remission, the decline, the agonies of watching a loved one die. When Jack finished, the tears were rolling unchecked down his face. Mari went to him and, wordless, pulled his head against her breasts, letting him weep against her borrowed sweater.

"Maybe not. My family is old money, Jack, but I want to make my own way, not be married off to some Wall Street type. Knowing the law, I might be able to help someone."

"Some of the kids I arrest could do with a sympathetic but no-nonsense lawyer, get them straightened out."

"Maybe I'll go that way." She grinned. "It will be a few years yet."

Jack smiled. "I can just see you and Kelly in business together. 'Duquesne and McInally, Attorneys at large'."

"Don't you mean, 'at law'?"

Jack shrugged. "I prefer my version."

Mari grinned. "So do I."

Jack glanced at his watch. Ten-ten. He glanced at Mari. "Want to watch some TV?"

She shrugged. "Why not? It's a while before I can go anywhere."

"See what's on while I put the dishes in the dishwasher and make some coffee. How do you take it?"

"Black, no sugar, please."

Ten minutes later, they were sitting on the couch together watching some inane drivel. They looked at each other and Jack reached for the remote, switching the set off. He smiled at her. "Why watch that rubbish when I can look at you instead?"

Jack's eyes lifted to hers. "I was going to say, 'kissable', but I have no right."

Mari slid closer, her eyes on his. "You have every right," she whispered, leaning towards him, closing her eyes as his lips came to hers. The kiss was tender, gentle, soft as they learned each other's taste and texture, hardening, building, a fire rising in each of them, until Jack broke away, breathing heavily.

"I'm too old for you, Mari," he said, his voice rough. She put her finger across his lips.

The kiss was hotter this time, burning them. Jack's hand slid up, his every movement tentative, to cup Mari's breast. Her hand covered his and pressed it against herself, then lifted it off. At first Jack thought he'd gone too far, until Mari slid his hand up, this time under her sweater, to cup her naked breast, the nipple hot and hard against his palm.

Eventually, they broke the kiss, looking into each other's eyes, Mari's bright with anticipation, Jack's wondering. He moved, uncomfortable, his erection hardening. Mari looked down and giggled.

"You're going to hurt yourself." She stood, taking his hands, putting them to the hem of her sweater. "Take it off," she whispered.

Almost trembling, Jack lifted the hem of the sweater. Mari held her arms up so that he could lift it off her and cast it aside on the couch. He gazed almost in awe at her breasts. Not big, they were beautifully shaped, large areolas supporting stiff, pencil-eraser sized nipples. He bent and sucked briefly at her, then bent. She squeaked as he picked her up, carrying her out of the room and up the stairs to his bedroom. He laid her on the bed and reached for the fastening on her skirt.

"Yes, Jack," she said as he paused, unsure, "yes, I want you, too."

He loosened the skirt and unwrapped her. She wore no panties, dark-red hair on her mons neatly trimmed to her bikini line, her lower lips shaved bare. All she wore now was her stockings, and her high-heeled shoes. Jack took her shoes off and cast them aside, smiling at her.

"Are you sure, lass?" he said, his hand going to his belt.

"Certain, Jack, absolutely certain."

He quickly loosened his belt and his jeans, pushing them down, stepping out of them. His erection bulged his boxers and Mari licked her lips unconsciously at the sight, drawing in her breath as the boxers came off and his prick sprang free, hot, hard, ready for her. He lay down beside her and slid his left hand under her neck, drawing her to him for his kiss, his right hand coming up again to cup her breast.

The kiss was long, hot, and she could feel his erection against her leg. She reached down and took him in her hand, running her thumb over the head, sliding her lightly-gripped hand down the hot length of him. Jack drew in his breath at her touch, stroking her belly, bending to kiss her nipples, sucking briefly at them. She lifted her hand to his and pushed it down, across her belly, down, through the fuzz on her mons, down and between her legs, spreading them, inviting his touch.

He briefly caressed her mons, then extended his index finger, sliding it down the whole wet length of her slit, stroking her, sliding a finger, two, into her scalding depths, his thumb moving lightly on her clitoris. She made a sound that was part sigh, part moan of pleasure.

He moved to cover her and she threw her legs apart, ready for him, wet, wanting him, reaching down to guide him into her, into her soaking depths, deep, hard, wanting him. Feeling her around him, wet, hot, clinging, yielding, clutching at him, her aromatic juices soaking him, freeing him to move in her, to thrust to the very core of her, to thrust again, again, again...

It was too much for him, too long since he'd last made love, too long to hold on, and he came, hips thrusting in spasmic reflex, his seed jetting into her, his vision blurring with the intensity of the moment, and she clutched at him, her heels urging him into her, her hands clutching his shoulders, drawing him to her.

Long moments later, he stilled, his head on her shoulder. He lifted it and looked at her, kissing her lightly. "You didn't come," he said.

She shook her head, smiling. "Not this time, no, but I will next time."

"Oh, there's going to be a next time, is there?" he said with a smile.

"A lot of them, I hope." She kissed his nose. "I think I've been a little bit in love with you since Kelly introduced us. You remind me a bit of my dad."

He snorted. "Thank you for that." He paused. "Will you stay?"

"As long as you like." In her turn, she paused. "Jack, before we go any further, I have a confession to make."

"A confession? What?"

"There was no party, not for me, although Kelly was going to one. I came here to try to seduce you. Can you ever forgive me?"

Jack stared at her for a long moment, but he couldn't stop the smile which broke out on his face. "Yes," he said, "eventually. Maybe after I've made love to you a couple of hundred times."

"I tricked you, I know, I'm sorry, but I think I made up for it with your treat."

Jack kissed her softly. "I do, too."

An hour later, letting herself quietly into the house, Kelly tiptoed upstairs and peeped into her father's bedroom, the door ajar, staring at the redhead sprawled across her sleeping father, one leg between his, her hair a wild tangle on the pillow. The bedside lamp was on and Kelly could see her father's face, soft and relaxed for the first time in ages as he slept. Kelly smiled, quietly closing the door.